Paper Bandages
by Camotaru
Summary: In a world of bodies and bloody hands, the broken ones must make a stand. The unforgotten all ignited with screams; still guide their actions, thoughts, and dreams. The souls bound together will snap apart; the grieving husks will remembers their hearts. The fruits of their work will take it's toll, but shattered pieces will never be whole.
1. Chapter 1: Burning Bodies

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 1: Burning Bodies_

A young man shifts uneasily in his sleep, visions of bodies and blood dancing behind his eyelids. Next to him, a large black wolf huffs in annoyance and noses at the man until he settles down.

Later in the night, the wolf will wake the man before settling down to sleep himself. The man will keep watch and silently soothe nightmares just as the wolf has done.

Come morning, the two will silently pack up and start walking. They will defend themselves and others, and then move on.

The next night, they will repeat the same routine over again.

And they will keep moving forwards, and never stop.

* * *

Dean stopped and looked back.

"Sammy, c'mon. We've got to get a move on." The other man grumbled at him, but sped up the process of lighting the pile of bodies on fire. When he was done, the two hopped into their car and drove off towards the rising sun.

"I'm telling you, Dean, we should really see about making an alliance with someone. We could the help, if not the company." Sam implored. It was a topic discussed often between the two, but for all of Sam's pleads, Dean was as stubborn as ever.

"Dude, when have we ever needed help? Don't answer that," he added quickly as Sam raised his eyebrows in disbelief,, "I'm just saying, I don't think it's a good idea to get anyone else involved-"

"Get anyone else involved?!" Sam broke in, "Dean, in case you haven't noticed, the entire world's been in a freakin' zombie apocalypse for the past year! Everyone's pretty much either dead or already involved!"

"Yeah, and look at how many of those from the 'dead' selection happened to be our allies!" Dean barked, "Mom, Dad, Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Ash, Kevin, Charlie-"

"Stop!" Sam roared, "Just… stop. I get it. I do. Sorry."

Dean ran a weary hand over his face and through his hair and sighed heavily.

"Bitch." he offered.

"Jerk." came the automatic response, and they were okay again.

If nothing else, the two men knew they would always have each other.


	2. Chapter 2: Matches

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 2: Matches_

"Dean! Hey, _Dean_!"

Dean bolted around the corner, already scanning the area with his gun at the ready, "What's wrong, Sammy? Where's the fire?"

Sam gestured at him absently to lower his gun as he replied, "That's exactly it. We're out of matches. Didn't you say we were supposed to get some at that abandoned Gas n' Sip we passed a while ago?"

Dean groaned. "No, I said _you_ were supposed to get them. What do we do with the Adams family, then? Leave 'em to rot and scare whoever else comes by?"

Sam ran his hands through his greasy hair in exhaustion and sighed, "Just… how bout we put them in the car and drive back to the Gas n' Sip. We can burn them when we get there."

Dean was horrified, "Are you crazy?! How could you even say that?!" Turning to the black Impala, he ran a hand along it and murmured, "He didn't mean it, Baby. Sammy still loves you, don't worry."

Sam rolled his eyes, but there was little annoyance behind the action.

Easygoing banter like this was how the both of them reminded themselves that they weren't alone.

* * *

Elsewhere, a man and wolf walked along the side of the crumbling remain of a highway.

The wolf abruptly froze and lifted his nose to the air. After sniffing for a few seconds, he bounded off in another direction, the man wordlessly following the beast.

They reached their destination not five minutes after they started running. In the center of a field of dead grass was a group of people tied up and bound to a metal stake that was covered in bloodstains.

Approaching them was a horde of twenty or so zombies, their dead gazes locked on to their prey that was struggling to escape.

With barely a glance at eachother, man and wolf moved in unison, charging forward with guns and fangs blazing. The man whipped out two handheld pistols and ruthlessly shot each monster in the chest and head. While it didn't stop their charge, it pushed the zombies back and slowed them down as they focused on the new threat.

Meanwhile, the wolf darted over to the captives and quickly gnawed and clawed through the ropes binding them to the pole. With a small growl, he herded the terrified victims to a nearby river surrounded by trees. Sparing them a single glance over his shoulder, the wolf then turned and surged back into the battle.

Once they were reunited, the two made little work of the opposing force, tearing off limbs and rendering the zombie physically incapable of dragging themselves forward. The man and the wolf then dragged the bodies into a pile, easily avoiding them still snapping mouths and grasping hands.

With a near-silent sigh, the man tossed a small bag over to the wolf, who caught it in his mouth and shook his head violently, causing the contents to fly out and scatter around on top of the the pile.

As he was doing this, the man was flicking out a match and lighting it, and when the bag was empty, he tossed it on the pile of bodies, igniting them in a wall of flame.

Then man and wolf casually turned and strolled back over to the saved victims.


	3. Chapter 3: Passing Notes

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 3: Passing Notes_

Dean hated Sam's puppy dog eyes. He really did.

They almost always granted him whatever he wanted, no matter what age he was. And Dean was notoriously weak to them.

There were dead body parts in his Baby's trunk.

Dean really needed a beer. Too bad there were practically none left. Seemed like the whole world lost someone and needed to grieve all at once, and no one was about to waste their time brewing more instead of trying to survive.

"Awesome," he muttered to himself sarcastically.

"Wha. . . ?" slurred a waking Sam from the seat next him, "You say somethin', Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes and gently slapped his little brother on the shoulder, "Nothing important man, I'm just craving a cold one. Go back to sleep."

"M'kay," Sam mumbled, already dozing off once more.

Dean turned his head to the side, taking in the sight of his little brother sleeping peacefully, as if the past year had all been a dream.

As if the world wasn't ending again.

As if the cause of this apocalypse wasn't sitting next to him in the driver's seat, watching him sleep.

Dean slid his gaze back over to the dirt road they were driving on.

* * *

When the man and the wolf approached the trembling group of people, an older man stepped bravely forward in front of the others. Turning to the man with the wolf, he spoke in a quavering, but determined voice, "My name's Jonah, and these here are my buddies. Now, we don't know who you are, though we're mighty grateful that you saved us. But I'll have you know that we ain't got nothin' to repay you with and we sure ain't goin' back to where we came from, so if they sent you to bring us back, we won't go quietly."

The man blinked and tilted his head to the side, brows wrinkled in confusion. He looked down at the wolf, who stared impassively back up at him. THe man hesitantly glanced back up at Jonah and the others.

Then he shook his head uncertainly. Slowly sliding the backpack off of his shoulders, the man unzipped it and reached inside. All of the other men tensed in anticipation.

The man pulled out a scrap of paper and a stubby pencil. Carefully, he pressed the paper against a tree and in shaky writing, he scribbled,

" _I am stiles. friend is derek. please don't repay. who tie up? where come from?"_

Jonah glanced suspiciously at the man, but took the paper and mouthed the words to himself as he read them. Abruptly, his gaze turned sympathetic and his voice softened and slowed until it sounded like he was speaking to a child or a wounded animal.

"I'm so sorry, son. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. Stiles, is it? That's a mighty interestin' name you got there. Now, where we came from, that was a bad place. You see those hills there?" He pointed over to a small cluster of hills in the distance, "There's a small town there, but you don't wanna go there, son. The folks there, they're all trapped by the Black-Eyes. They look like you and me, but their eyes are pure black and they have evil powers. They tie a bunch of up here every now and then so the zombies'll get distracted and stay away. The Black-Eyes ain't human, son. You'd best take your Derek and go the other- HEY!"

Stiles was staring at Jonah flatly until the mention of the Black-Eyes. Then, his eyes widened and he whipped his gaze down to Derek, who nodded grimly. After Jonah sounded like he was almost finished talking, Stiles shook his hand and instantly raced off towards the hills, Derek flat on his heels.


	4. Chapter 4: Breakdown

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 4: Breakdown_

Sam knew something was wrong the moment he woke up.

Dean was gone.

Dean was _gone._

 _Dean_ was _gone_.

He had left Sam all alone. Maybe he didn't trust him to watch his back anymore? Maybe had he finally decided to ditch the dead weight that had been plaguing him since he was four? Maybe he thought Sam was a monster? Oh god, Dean hated him. _Dean hated him._ No. _No. Nononononononono-_

 _Thwack!_

Sam gasped, choking on the inhale, and suddenly he was desperately sucking in air. He didn't know when he had stopped breathing, but it was okay. He was okay.

 _Dean_.

Instantly, Sam's eyes shot open for the first time since he had woken up, and he abruptly realized that he was still in the Impala. Dean wouldn't have left his Baby, not willingly. Both good and bad.

Staring into his eyes was a kid of about twenty, face creased in concern. Sam tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it probably came out a bit strained. Sitting up up a breathless groan, Sam finally took stock of the situation he found himself in.

The car was still parked at the abandoned Gas n' Sip where Sam had a half-asleep memory of Dean burning the dead bodies. The shotgun seat window was broken open, and the kid was still eyeing him worriedly through it. He didn't really seem like a threat, so Sam began to move on in his observations.

Then he immediately threw the door open and vomited on the dirt at the kid's feet. The kid recoiled silently, shock and horror on his face.

"Damn... " Sam huffed when he was finished, "They must've drugged me."

The kid cocked his head questioningly, and Sam wiped his mouth as he exited the Impala fully.

"Did you see any people here? They must've broken in the window and drugged me while I was sleeping. And my brother, too, they took him somewhere. He wouldn't have left me otherwise. " _He wouldn't have left me willingly. He_ wouldn't _have._

The kid nodded gravely and hesitated for a second, before gesturing at the car and then his eyes. He repeated the motion several times before Sam was forced to concede that his original guess might have been true.

"They… had black eyes?" he whispered, heart slowly sinking. The kid jumped when he swore loudly at the nod he received.

"Demons," he growled, "Why now? It's not enough that we're in a zombie apocalypse, no, we need _demons_ too?! What's next, a freakin' werewolf needs killing?!"

THe kid stiffened and stumbled backwards in fear. Sam noticed this and calmed down. The poor kid didn't need to see this. Sam ran a weary hand through his hair.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that. Before this all happened," Sam gestured all around them with both hands, "I used to be something called a hunter. There were lots of us, and we basically went around hunting things like demons and zombies. Still am a hunter, I guess. But now- hey, are you alright, kid?" The kid had paled dramatically and suddenly Sam found himself at the end of two pistols.

"Whoa! Hold up, there! It's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you!" Sam slowly raised his hands, warily trying to calm down the obviously terrified kid. But then the kid seemed to get over his fear and glared viciously at Sam. Still aiming a gun at the hunter, the kid slowly holstered one of the pistols and reached behind him into his backpack.

Retrieving a scrap of paper and a small pen, he quickly scribbled a few things over some prewritten words. Then he tossed the paper at the ground and gestured at him.

Sam swallowed down the leftover bile in his mouth and slowly bent down to pick up the paper and read it.

" _I am stiles. friend is derek. please don't_ _ **kill**_ _._ _ **not bad guys**_ _. where_ _ **going**_ _?"_

Sam narrowed his eyes, going over the words in his head.

"You're not human," he guessed, "Or this 'Derek' isn't. What are you, and where is he? If you don't hurt innocents, then I won't hurt you guys, simple as that. You had a chance to kill me while I was drugged, but you didn't."

Stiles relaxed a little, and nodded at something over Sam's shoulder. A large, black wolf with icy blue eyes stalked out from around the other side of the Impala, hackles raised and body tensed.

Sam couldn't help it. He laughed.

Both Stiles and Derek looked at him like he was crazy, but Sam couldn't help it.

He must have been telling the future again. A werewolf. _A freakin' werewolf._

Sam wished Dean was here, because he soon realized he was crying, sobbing into his hands, and _goddamnit, he needed his big brother._


	5. Chapter 5: Freezer

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 5: Freezer_

Dean wished he wasn't used to waking up in chains. And not in a kinky way, either. More like a something's-trying-to-kill-him-and-Sammy kinda way.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a cramped sort of cage. It was hard to tell where, because it was so dark, but he guessed he was in an underground prison somewhere, based on the pungent scent of damp earth, vomit, and piss. Half the cage disappeared in an inky darkness, while Dean's half was bathed in a half light from a dirty old lantern hanging far out of reach of the cage.

Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Awesome. Just awesome.

Dean groaned around his gag. At the noise, something shifted at the other end of the cage. Two unnaturally bright gold eyes were staring at him in undisguised fear.

Dean mentally cursed his luck. He was stuck in a cage with some obviously terrified creature. This whole apocalypse just kept getting better and better.

Then, as if to prove his point further, the owner of the eyes inched closer to Dean. _The thing wasn't even tied up!_ Dean tensed and tried to curl up defensively. He had no way to stop the monster from tearing him apart if it so desired.

But to his surprise, it was a human voice that shakily gasped out, "W- what are you? They said- they said they only put dangerous things down here. I swear we're- I'm not- please don't try to- try to-"

In just a short sentence, the thing was already wheezing, nearly hyperventilating in- fear of Dean? If it was acting, it was doing a pretty good job at it. He grunted at it, frustrated at his inability to communicate. Could it seriously not tell he was human? Or did it know he was a hunter?

At his grunt, the creature stopped its panicked babbling and cautiously reached a clawed hand forward to quickly slice at the gag and the chains, before instantly retracting the appendage.

And then it _whimpered_. It _whimpered_ like a _puppy_.

And the eyes- they looked so _scared_. They looked- young. Hurt. Innocent.

They looked like Sam's had, once upon a time.

 _Dammit, Dean._

Cursing his weakness, Dean slowly held up his newly-freed arms placatingly. For God's sake, he was trying to convey nonthreatening vibes to a freakin' monster. But Sam's chastising voice floated through his head, disapproving bitch face firmly set in place, and he focused on calming the thing down.

"Hey," he tried in a low voice, "I'm not gonna hurt you. We're obviously in the same situation. So why don't you calm down and tell me who 'they' are and what they want. I'm a human. Name's Dean. What are you?"

The harsh breaths stuttered and the creature shifted into the light.

It was just a _kid._

Well, no, it just looked like a kid, probably not even twenty yet, but the tear tracks and bloodstained rags definitely made it look younger.

It's hair, probably once a light brown, was matted to its head with blood and grime. Take away the glowing gold eyes, claws, and fangs, and it could probably pass as human.

"M' a were- werewolf," it- no, _he_ , stuttered in a halting voice, "Isaac. Also, I- I'm not good with cages. Small ones. Like this one. S' too dark. And _small_. And I- I can't get _out._ And he's not- not gonna come back- no one is- I can't- he's gonna- gonna-"

"Hey!" Dean broke in when the kid started losing it again, "Isaac! Isaac, focus. You're gonna be alright. I'm sure my brother's on his way as we speak. We'll get you out. But I need to know that you're in control. You aren't gonna start clawing me up. So… just think. Who's got us? Do you know what they want?"

Isaac took a deep, shuddering breath, but seemed to calm slightly. "I- demons, I think. Black eyes. Um, how- you said you were human? I don't know why- why they'd take you. But, um, Sc- my alpha, he's- well, special? I guess. So I'm bait. They gave me something- I'm stuck like this. In beta form. But the bars- they're wolfsbane. I'm not- I can't shift fully. No real power. Can't lose control. But I can- I can hear the other prisoners. Below us and- and above us. Screaming." He took a deep breath, panic having faded a decent amount in his speech.

Dean hesitated. He didn't want to tell the kid he was a hunter; it would likely scare him even more. But if it was demons that had him, why take him and not Sam? It didn't make sense.

He ran a hand over his face. Alright. He could do this. He turned to face Isaac, who was looking at him so hopefully, like Dean could save the world and make everything okay again.

Like Sammy used to look at him.

So he hid his doubts, flashed the kid a confident smirk, and cracked his knuckles.

"First thing's first. Let's get outta this cage, huh? Wipe your face, kid. We got work to do."


	6. Chapter 6: Night Watch

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 6: Night Watch_

Stiles wasn't quite sure what to make of the hunter. He had met both cruel (Kate) and pretty decent (Chris) hunters in his life, but this guy just seemed so… unprofessional.

He and Derek had been heading over to an old gas station to find food and supplies when they had seen the man passed out in the black car with the broken window. He had gone over to see if the guy was okay, when the man had suddenly awoken and began randomly hyperventilating.

Stiles, of all people, knew exactly what a panic attack was, so he had slapped the guy before it could really take hold.

The man had promptly opened the door to vomit on Stiles' feet. Like, grateful much?

While he had been standing there awkwardly, Derek had trotted around to the driver's side and had been sniffing around. After a couple of moments, he had turned to Stiles and nodded grimly.

Great. Demons.

So now they were stuck with this enormous hunter who seemed vaguely unstable. Who was pining for his older brother. Who was taken by demons.

What had happened to his life? It had all started when his dad-

Nope. Bad subject. New topic, Stiles.

Too late. Already he could hear his father's harsh breathing, his exasperated tone, _Stiles, please shut up. If they find us because you won't stop asking if I'm alright, then I really won't be._

And he hadn't been, because he had been eaten alive. All because Stiles couldn't shut up.

Distantly, he wondered if he was being hypocritical in saying the hunter was unstable.

Stiles checked his solar-powered watch mechanically. Six minutes until Derek's shift. They had camped out for the night at the gas station when it became obvious that the hunter was going nowhere.

Stiles wasn't quite sure when it was decided that he would join their group, but he figured it would all work in the end. Strength of the pack and all that.

Damn. Bad subject again.

Well, no. Derek was his only pack, and believe it or not, the sourwolf had gotten him through some tough times.

But once upon a time, pack had meant Scott and Lydia and Malia and Liam and Kira and sort-of Deaton and Melissa and Parrish and even longer before that was Isaac and Allison and not-quite Erica and Boyd and not-really Cora and Jackson and definitely-not Peter and Theo. Of course, his very first pack had been his mom and his d- and wasn't it strange how Stiles had that whole pack-mentality thing going on? It was like running with wolves (and kanimas and banshees and coyotes and chimeras and-) had made him one of them, except he was still human, still oh so human and oh so breakable just like his old packs, all of them, who had been able to talk and laugh with him (or at him), and they didn't communicate with just wolfy eyebrows and-

But Derek was alive, so there was that.

Stiles breathed, a careful inhale and exhale.

Ha. InHALE. ExHALE. Derek HALE.

Oh, look at the time. It was Derek's turn to lie awake with his thoughts, and Stiles turn for nightmares. Joy.

He felt kinda bad for the hunter dude though, because he was pretty sure the guy was still awake and making sure they wouldn't do anything. But he knew nothing good would come from calling attention to the fact, and he silently tapped the top of Derek's left front paw four times, so the wolf would know it was Stiles waking him and wouldn't try to rip his throat out.

Derek's eyes snapped open, and the two switched places as they did with everything.

In silence.


	7. Chapter 7: Possessed

**Paper Bandages**

 _Chapter 7: Possessed_

Dean screamed, his tortured voice wailing in agonizing pain. His shrieks soon turn to dry sobs punctuated with pleads to _let him go, make him stop, please_ _ **, please**_ _, just get it off of him._

Long story short, the plan worked.

It had quick, full of holes, and made on the fly. But for once, Winchester luck didn't strike, and _the plan_ _had actually worked._

Basically, Dean figured that since they went through all the trouble of capturing him instead of killing him, the demons had probably wanted him alive for something _._ So if it sounded like Isaac was ripping him apart, they might investigate.

Then Dean would smear blood all over himself, lie still in the shadows, and let Isaac snarl at the demons. While they were busy with Isaac, he would mumble the exorcism under his breath and they'd be on their way.

And well, he hadn't exactly planned for them to knock Isaac out, but Dean would take what he could get. Malnourished as he was, the kid wasn't much trouble to carry, and he stepped over the dead meatsuits with barely a sound.

With the lantern held up high, Dean easily found the dilapidated old staircase, and he ascended quickly but carefully, trying not to knock the unconscious werewolf on his shoulder into any walls.

As he neared the next landing, he could pick up the screams that Isaac had mentioned, but they seemed more like quiet whimpers next to Dean's death wail. Yet another gift he had earned from his time in Hell. It seemed like so long ago when Sam had died for the first time (for the _first time_ , and how messed up was his life that he could say that about his little brother?).

He had bypassed three floors when Dean finally saw the first hint of natural light. If there were demons up there, he would need Isaac up and fully functioning, so he laid the werewolf out across the steps and socked him in the cheek.

Sure, the kid reminded him of Sammy, but he wasn't about to pull his punches that much.

Isaac woke up quickly and quietly- obviously used to being in danger. Once the werewolf was up and running, the two crept up to the top of the stairs.

Dean was just about to take another step when Isaac grabbed his sleeve. He turned to Isaac to ask what was wrong, but froze when he saw the kid's face. Isaac had frozen and had tensed his whole body, skin paling in shock and confusion.

Dean narrowed his eyes, craning his head around to try and see what Isaac was smelling, but he couldn't see around the corner.

"What is it?" he hissed to the werewolf, grasping the other's shoulder and shaking him roughly. A shudder ran through Isaac's body before he finally snapped his gaze over to meet Dean's. Wordlessly, he nodded his head to behind the corner and loosened his grip.

Dean pulled his jacket out of the kid's claws and peered cautiously around the corner. Standing there was a small group of demons, only about twelve or so. The man who seemed to be the leader was young, probably around Isaac's age, although he seemed to be in good shape.

The man said something to the demons, and they disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then he turned and stared right at Dean.

"Come on out, boys," the ironically gentle voice called out. Dean exchanged a glance with Isaac, but stepped out into the open, prepared for anything.

Isaac, on the other hand, looked like he was either about to start crying or killing something. Opening his mouth, the boy choked out,

" _Danny_?!"


End file.
